


Train of Thought

by shhhhharlotte



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Soulmates, Uni AU, etc. etc, they are ment to be together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:15:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1609715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shhhhharlotte/pseuds/shhhhharlotte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis and Harry start uni at the same time. They were made for each other from the start, but neither of them can figure it out. They fly so high and fall so hard.<br/>Basically they’re best friends turned unrequited lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Train of Thought

**Author's Note:**

> //Another uni AU, but it’s a gift for my friend Erin so it’s better than all the other uni AUs.// 
> 
> For Erin: I was gonna write a story based on us meeting in college as H/L, but I would hate it if I didn’t meet you until college. So it’s not based on us, but ~Stars~ was my inspiration for most of it, so I hope you can pick out the pieces of us. It was meant to be like 5k tops, but it turned into this. I hope you like it. I hope you know you’re now a twenty-something reading fanfiction about boybands. I love you. Happy birthday. 
> 
> Thank you to [Cara](http://paperbacklions.tumblr.com/) for editing and for being lovely in general. And thank you to [Erin](http://chipotlouis.tumblr.com/) for being in my life.

“Fuck.” Louis’s head slammed down onto the table, his phone slipping out of his grip as he closed his eyes. “I’m so in love with him, Ni.”

Niall looked over, sighing at his friend's slumped figure. He saw it, and he knew. Every day. Every day he saw the way Lou’s eyes would linger a little too long. He watched Harry try to fix his hair more and more when Louis walked up. He saw when Harry would bring him coffee and kiss him on top of his head and Louis’s eyes would flutter shut for the smallest second. He saw when they would text from across the crowded table, having their own conversation amidst the crazy of the group, unable to rein in their secrets and their constant, desperate need for each other.

“I know, Lou," Niall sighed. "I know."

* * *

 

Louis met Aiden first, back when it was the first week and meeting people was the only goal (unless you counted Liam, but Louis didn’t count people he lived with). Louis loved those days. Sometimes he felt overwhelmed by the pace of it, but the thrill of new personalities to know and new faces to memorize was so wonderful. Aiden lived on his floor; he was acquainted with Liam through a mutual friend, and knew Liam would have rugby practice all the time, so he would stop by their room before dinner so Louis had a friend to sit with. Aiden was the best.

“Hey, there are some people in the next hall going for pasta in a few. Wanna come?”

Louis knew the people he was talking about. A skinny, dark boy with fabulous hair, a petite girl with high heels and a lot of tattoos, a few guys he had heard talking about record players. Louis had been in overlapping circles with some of them through various teams or projects in secondary school, but he didn’t know them well enough. Aiden and Louis arrived and sat at the end of the table and listened on the edge of the conversation. People laughed and discussed potential majors and classes and shared stories of home, but the only thing Louis remembers from that day was the loud boy with curly hair who sat at the other end of the table and who told bad jokes and kept taking pictures of his food and wouldn’t stop smiling. He had seen the boy around from a distance, but had never been able to talk to him.

His name was Harry, Louis found out the next morning when Aiden said the two of them were going to try the fast food restaurant on south campus for lunch, and asked Louis to join.

Louis spent the entire meal trying to be funny and charming and all the best parts of himself, but Harry always did it better. Louis never felt out shone by him, but Harry’s ease and modest confidence made Louis forget everything he tried. In hindsight, Louis did a decent job of making a first impression; Harry laughed at all of his jokes and his dimples never flattened out and he agreed with everything Louis said. Harry didn’t even mind that when Louis laughed, he was laughing at Harry, not at Harry’s jokes. By the end of it Aiden probably felt like a third-wheel, but it would be a while until Louis noticed that. All he noticed was _Harry_.

Harry walked back to his building thinking only of puzzle pieces clicking together. Of shoes that fit perfectly. Of keys and locks working perfectly and the trust of not needing either.

“Hey Niall, have you met Louis?” was the first thing he asked when he walked in their room.

Niall lay flat on his bed with his computer on his stomach, the fan on his bedside table frozen to face him, the ghost of August drifting in through the open window. His loose shirt had some food stains. It was probably time to figure out the laundry machines.

“Louis Tomlinson? Is he the one with the flowy hair and the cool shoes?” he asked, making a swoopy motion over his forehead to clarify.

“Yeah,” Harry said slowly, thoughtfully, lowering himself onto his bed. “Louis Tomlinson.”

They were inseparable.

A week later when classes began, Harry would find Louis’s studying spots. He didn’t do it on purpose (or at least not consciously), but every place Louis tried, Harry would try too.

“Look at the sunset above the library, Lou,” Harry would say, getting out his camera and looking around the room. "I like this lounge, it's so... charming."

“Well that’s unfortunate for you, then, that I’m blocking the view.”

Harry would pretend to think about it. “Mmmmm, not really.”

Louis would _not_ blush.

Neither of them complained. They made friends with the three boys their circles overlapped with and sometimes those boys would sit with them, too. They had a table in the dining hall that they shared and used as a home base. It was wonderful. By midway through September, they had a pattern and a schedule and a solid knowledge of where the other was at any given time of any given day. Louis would be out playing football with some lads from his drama class, or Harry would be trying to help Zayn find his latest lady on facebook, but all the while they would text each other about it, regardless of relevance. It was the happiest Louis had ever been.

~~~~~

The lads had a free afternoon one Thursday towards the end of the month. Liam's practice was cancelled that day and he and Louis sat on the floor of their room, passing a football back and forth between them.

"How is that class with Professor Cowell going, Lou?"

"You know, Li, I really can't tell?” Louis thought about it. “I love the material, and he's a great guy. Really smart, knows his shit. But he is so strict and he marks too harshly." Louis threw the ball and chuckled. "You know, I have no idea what my grade is like? I should probably figure that one out."

Liam laughed at him. “If it were me his inbox would be full of questions, wouldn't it?

“For school?” A new voice entered the room and Louis tilted his head back all the way to see the curly hair it belonged to.

“Yeah, I’m dropping out, haven’t you heard?”

“Ha ha.” Liam passed the ball up to Harry, standing above Louis in the doorway. “Is this about Cowell’s class? D’you know what your grade is in that class? I’m worried about mine.”

“No, that’s just what we were saying. You both should email him.”

“Okay, I’ll do it after the game later.”

Harry pulled his camera up from the strap around his neck, snapped a picture of the ball, and passed the ball back to Liam as he sat down next to Louis. He pulled his computer from his bag saying, “Or,” dragging out the word with his low voice, “we could do it now because the game isn’t for thirty minutes.”

“Oi, none of that, Styles. You’re making me responsible.”

“Just do it, Lou,” Harry rolled his eyes and sat his laptop on Louis’s knees. “Here.”

Louis typed in Harry’s password and logged out of Harry’s email while Harry whined over his shoulder. “Hey, how do you know my password?”

“Oh come on, Haz, we all know your password is matty75.”

Liam snorted.

* * *

 

Harry didn’t know when it happened, but he can’t remember ever being hesitant. He was flung right into this friendship and there was no turning back. But he didn’t mind. Harry was never shy with people, but sometimes he wasn’t as open because he wanted certain things to be personal and private. With Louis, that never happened. With Louis, he was never afraid of bothering him with too many texts, or of running out of things to say, or of knocking on his door at midnight in only his pants just to play Louis a song he just fallen in love with. They shared everything, but that never took away the specialness.

~~~~~

Harry walked around the library, trying to find the stack of shelves Louis was probably hiding between. He had only answered one of Harry's texts, and Harry wanted to bring him some tea. Tea was nice. Louis was nice. Louis deserved tea.

"Hey, Louuuuuuuuuuis," he dragged when he found Louis on the floor of the library's third floor. His legs crossed in his corduroys, computer balanced on his knee, and papers everywhere.

"Hi, mate," Louis said curtly, not looking up from his notebooks and tapping his pen on the base of his laptop.

Harry slowed, looking at him, questioning the moodiness and calculating the mess of books and thinking of everything he could do to make it better. Louis could feel Harry's gaze, could see his boots in front of him, but didn't care enough to address it. It was a rare occurrence, but it was as if you could see the stress and the fatigue smoking off of him. Louis had an essay to draft and turn in, Louis had an exam to study for, Louis had a dense chapter to read and outline, and no matter how much he liked having Harry around, he had to get this done. He had to do well.

Harry bent down and held his wrist. "Lou, you can do it."

Louis looked away from the book in his lap and up to the ceiling instead. Inhale, exhale. "I can't do it." Inhale, exhale. "I don't want to do it. I'm going to die."

Harry recalculated. "Okay."

"No. No, it's not okay. If I die I won't finish this fucking essay, Harold." He looked back down and met Harry's eyes. Harry's wide, green, sorry eyes that still crinkled at him as if he had a secret. "I have no idea what I'm writing about! I've written half the assignment but none of my paragraphs correlate and I don't even know what the author is saying anymore." He let out a breath. "Not to mention my exam in two days. It's not okay."

"But it will be okay, Lou." He was so sure of himself. "I brought you tea and I'm staying here to help."

Louis figured he should protest, but he didn't have the resolve. Harry placed the tall paper cup between Louis's legs, sat down next to Louis, leaned against the bookshelf, and opened his worn out book bag.

Louis eyed him, suspicious as to why this crazy boy kept giving and giving and giving to him without even thinking about returned favors. Suspicious as to how he always knew what to do. But when Harry looked up and saw Louis's narrowed eyes, he was only concerned. "You okay? D'you need anything?"

Louis just reached over and took Harry's hand in his, grabbed his pen, and drew a solid 'L' in the center of his large palm.

"You're the best," Louis whispered. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on Harry's shoulder. "Thanks for dealing with me."

Harry just smiled, his heart growing warmer.

Later, after Louis had set back to work in a much better mood than before and his tea was nearly gone, Harry asked, "What's the 'L' for?"

"Loser."

* * *

 

Harry couldn’t name it. He had never in his life felt so connected to a person. When they were happy they fit. When they were studying they fit. When Louis was homesick and sad they fit. When Harry was heartbroken they fit. When they were sat with all their friends they found ways to have their own conversations within the larger one. It was amazing. Not only did they lean on each other so much emotionally (“Codependent,” Niall would say.), but soon Harry would fall into Louis’s bed and stay there until morning. Louis would drape his legs over Harry’s lap in the library. Harry would grab Louis’s hand over the table at dinner when he had something to tell him, and Niall and Liam would know not to interrupt. When they were drunk they would get so touchy with each other that they would walk down sidewalks red-faced, giggling, and practically spooning, so warm in so many ways, despite the chill in the late October air.

Other people started noticing.

Which was fine. They both knew in the long run that the only thing that mattered was what was shared between them. But it shook things up a bit, because once others started wondering, they started wondering.

_Cher just asked if we were dating .xx_

**_No kidding!! What did you tell her???????_ **

_I told her not yet ;)_

**_Omg, Hazzzzz_ **

Louis didn’t realize why his heart skipped a beat at ‘yet.’ Maybe he didn’t even notice, because it happened every time he texted.

“Maybe we are dating,” Harry whispered the next day while Louis was halfway through his Faulkner reading. The semesters was inching towards finals and professors were expecting more, but sometimes Louis could do nothing but learn about this bright-eyed boy in front of him. Harry’s eyes widened in mocked shock. “Maybe we are dating and _we_ don’t even know it.”

“Yeah…,” Louis played on, nodding and raising his eyebrows in jest. “Maybe we are on a date _right now_!” Then he shouted, “Kiss me, you fool!” He threw himself onto Harry, plastering quick kisses to his forehead and cheeks, probably making a scene in the study lounge they had occupied, but neither of them noticed. Harry’s eyes crinkled and his hands went immediately, instinctually to Louis’s waist and as he fell over he pulled Louis on top of him, laughing.

Louis stopped and rested his chin on Harry’s chest. He propped his head on his arms and took a minute to read Harry’s eyes. Harry looked up at Louis so fondly, without a trace of unhappiness in his soul. Louis tried to imagine what he was thinking, tried to see into his silly brain through his big, shiny eyes. Louis didn’t know what he was feeling, but he knew it scared him. He knew it was big and important and messing it up would destroy him. He desperately hoped Harry felt the same. Not because he wanted Harry to reciprocate (in fact, the thought of Harry reciprocating was even bigger and scarier than the actual feeling), but because he wanted someone to understand.

Trying to see into Harry’s soul was rather difficult when Harry’s dumb long legs started to move and twist so they could trap Louis where he was. Harry pouted a little, a line appearing between his brows. Then he whispered, “You’re mine.”

Louis chuckled and relaxed into Harry, focusing on Harry’s thumb drawing circles on his sides, loving the way it felt and ignoring the way it felt so right. He turned his head so his ear pressed against Harry’s chest. His heartbeat was steady, confident, sure. Louis envied that. “I know,” he whispered back, because he had stopped fighting it long ago.

Harry inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, squeezed Louis tight. “I love you, Lou.” There it was: the three little words they said all the time and meant with all their hearts, but never felt like enough.

* * *

 

As December began, so did exams.

Harry’s photography degree meant days spent in the dark room, developing pictures (most of them were of Louis or of things Louis liked or of places that reminded him of Louis…) and putting together portfolios for hours at a time. He still has an exhibition to set up on lines and textures in nature versus architecture and it was all becoming too much too fast. Harry hated the thought of pulling Louis from his studies, despite how much he would help. Barely being able to spend an hour with Louis most days this week had taken a toll on him (He’s almost embarrassed to admit that. He hates to think what the Christmas holidays will bring.).

Thankfully, he had Niall.

Niall—the wizard—never seemed to study anything and still passed everything. The boys knew his quiet genius existed, but still could never figure out how he spent his time or where he did his homework. He did, they know, spend lots of time with his friends, so when Harry was trapped in the art building, Niall would keep him company.  

“What the fuck is this, Hazza?” he asked, holding up a completely black image that Harry had just printed.

“It’s the underside of a bridge in town, _Nialler_.” Obviously. “Lou and I took the train around a few weeks back and we stopped right near it.” Harry held it up to the red light, moving slowly and talking even slower. “There, you can see the bricks. It’s all shiny. It was… cool.”

“Whatever you say mate,” Niall laughed and took the print back from Harry to put it back in its folder. “What about this one?”

“Oh, I love this one,” Harry jumped on the opportunity, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “That’s Louis’s foot, right,” he begins, using his pinky to point out the subjects. “But it looks like it’s as tall as the building in the background! He was lying down, see, and at _just_ the right angle it looked like he could kick down the building! Louis thought it was so funny.” Harry was glowing. Niall saw right through him, but Harry didn’t notice. “The focus is so good in this, I still can’t believe it.”

Niall didn’t look away from Harry’s face; he just picked up the next photo in front of him and held it up for Harry to explain.

Harry slowed and his eyes looked at it fondly and the little smile he made brought out the dimples. “Louis took that one.”

“Are you using it in your project?”

“No, I just…” Harry faltered. Niall raised his eyebrows as he watched him struggle. He didn’t even think Harry realized what he was doing, or how he was feeling. Niall thought about it. Maybe Harry Styles didn’t fall in love. Maybe, he flew. He flew heart first and enthusiastically into the nearest star and smiled that goofy grin as he let the star consume him, cover him, but never burn him. Maybe he knew he couldn’t control it, so he just went along for the ride. Niall doubted Harry knew how to get off the ride, but he also knew, with Louis, he didn’t want to. With Louis, it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You okay, mate?”

“Hmm?” Harry looked up from the photo. The photo of a train whizzing by, out of focus, with the top of Harry’s curls focused in the center. Harry shook out his hair and refocused. “Oh, yeah, I’m great.”

Niall thought he looked a little winded, out of breath, but his dimples were still showing. Niall poked one. “You wanna talk about it?”

“About the picture?” Niall hadn’t meant the picture, but he didn’t correct him. Harry gathered his thoughts. Speaking his low, drawn out voice, he began. “Well, you know I like to take pictures, obviously. I like to… save what I see, and I try to, like, take the picture so it captures how I see it… Like, if I look at a building and my eyes are drawn to the way the windows are shaped, I’m gonna try to… focus the picture on the windows.” He paused, and Niall rolled his knowing eyes. Harry was still too deep in his mind to realize what he was saying. “Sometimes the pictures don’t work that… nicely. Sometimes… there isn’t enough light to focus on what you see, or, like, everything doesn’t fit in the frame. Usually you have to work really hard to create the perfect shot if that happens… or, like, take multiple shots to fit it all in and make sure you got it perfect. But sometimes it works really well, you don’t even have to try, and you can tell exactly what I was thinking.”

Harry stopped talking, satisfied, proud, like the two minutes he had spent explaining his photography had explained everything. Satisfied like he just told the best joke in the world. Proud like he had made Louis laugh.

“Louis took that picture, Harry.”

“Yeah, he did!” as if he had only just remembered the fact.

“So, is that what Louis sees? Your hair in focus and the rest of the world spinning around you?”

“I guess…” Harry whispered, looking back at the print in his hand. “It just kinda happened like that… It’s a beautiful picture, isn’t it?”

“You bet it is, kiddo.”

~~~~~

Louis sat with Perrie and Zayn in the back of a café trying to compile themes from each book on the syllabus, preparing for essays on exams on essays. The latter two sat across from one another with their ankles wrapped around each other, focused on the task in front of them. Louis was the distraction king—his mind jumping from _coffee_ to _Harry_ to _Bronte_ to _snow_ to _Zayn and Perrie are cute_ to _Harry is cute_ to _stars_ to _Harry_ and back again.

“How did they come up with so many different ways to prepare coffee? I could write a thesis on that.”

Perrie gave him a small smile. “Lou, we know you prefer your tea.”

“It’s just too complicated. I don’t understand the appeal.”

“Lou,” Zayn sighed, dragging his accent and looking up from his novel. “If you want to go get some tea, go get some tea.”

“And leave you two lovebirds here unsupervised? I think not.”

“You’re one to talk, Tommo,” Zayn joked. Well, at least Perrie knew he was joking.

“Zayn Malik. How very dare you imply such a thing.” Louis looked down and focused _very_ hard on not turning red.

“Imply that you and Harry shag on the daily?” Zayn grinned. He loved the way Louis fidgeted. But he loved Louis enough to let up. Zayn lowered his voice a bit, softening the words and getting serious. “Oh c’mon, Lou, I was kidding. The day you keep that big of a secret from me is the day the world ends.”

“Yeah, because it is not going to happen,” Louis said, trying to sound as factual as he could. He even tried to smile. He didn’t want to face this. He didn’t want to think about this. Louis could not bear to let this reach the surface or his world would collapse with the weight.

“Do you really think that, Lou?” Zayn sounded concerned. That wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Zayn was supposed to be joking along with the rest of the world, smiling at the two people who loved each other so much no one could define them. He wasn’t supposed to sound like he could read Louis’s mind.

But of course, that’s what Zayn did.

“Harry and I are mates. That’s it.”

“Louis, that’s not true and you know it.” Perrie spoke barely above a whisper, reaching over to touch Louis’s arm. He looked up at her and saw all his fear in her knowing face. He wasn’t afraid of being with Harry like that, but he was so, incredibly scared of being with Harry like that, then watching it fall apart in front of him. He was scared of ruining the perfect balance they have now. He was scared it would change him too much, or worse, that it would change Harry, and they could never return.

“Then what are we?” He meant it to be sassy, rhetorical, a curveball. Louis sounded desperate.

“You’re soul mates,” Zayn said, clear as day, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, as if Louis was the last one to find out. “It doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you’re together.”

Soul mates. Soul mates was the first way to describe it. Not necessarily in love, or a romantic relationship, or anything that was much more daunting. Soul mates were intense, unpreventable, inevitable, fated. You fit into your soul mate whether you want to or not (but they wanted to, so badly). When you are so dependent on this person that the thought of existing without them sends your heart into your stomach, so attached to them that it was overwhelming, so in love with their soul that sometimes you needed to lay down, trying to name the relationship was frightening.

Soul mates worked.

* * *

 

The last week of term was about to start, reading days had commenced, and the only thing Louis cared about was the bottle of vodka in front of him. His classes had done their damage and now it was time for Louis to do his. The last Saturday of the year.

One shot. Two shots. Three shots. Harry’s room. Go.

He stumbled down the hallway, through doors and around corners, so grateful he didn’t have to deal with stairs. Louis thought he could live his whole life on this floor; as long as someone brought him food, he would have everything he needs. How he was going to make it through all of Christmas holidays without Harry was a mystery.

He wished the vodka would kick in faster.

He knocked.

“HARRY. I BRING TIDINGS OF GREAT JOY AND—” Harry opened the door. Shirtless. Trouser less. And grinning so wide you wouldn’t believe it. “—alcohol,” Louis finished, checking as fast as he could that Harry was at least wearing pants. He was.

"Louis!!" Harry said, as if he hadn't seen Louis in years. As if he was drunk.

“Ooooh, Haz you’re a bad man.” Louis pushed his way in, pretending to shield his eyes and trying not to let his hands linger on Harry’s chest for longer than necessary.

“Hiya, Lou. Sorry about him, we started early and I lost the leash,” Niall said, hanging his torso off his bed, his arms dangling. There was a cup just out of his reach.

“Hey, me too!” Louis shouted back, holding up the opened bottle as the warmth in his chest spread to his stomach. “MY BOYS! I love you, Niall.” Louis pressed a kiss to the most accessible part of Niall’s back. “You’re a top lad.”

Harry smiled at them.

"And _you_ , my boy," Louis swished around to point at Harry. The vodka was taking charge. Perfect. "I love you, Harry Styles." Louis walked to him across the small room. "You and your big," _poke_ "dumb," _poke_ "hair." Louis reached up and pulled Harry's head down by his ears, kissing the top of his head, nosing his face into the curls, smelling that intoxicating _Harry_ smell.

"Mmmmmmmm me too, Lou." Harry was much more cool, calm, collected and that made Louis even more fidgety. Louis couldn't figure out how he did it.

Harry snaked his arms around Louis waist and pulled him in. Louis arched into his long torso and detangled his arms from Harry's enough to wrap them around his neck, threading his fingers through Harry's curls.

These were the best moments. Moments when they were physically close and cuddled into one another and when the only thing they were thinking was how much they loved the other. When the alcohol in their systems was enough to hold off precaution and trepidation, but not enough to erase the moment from their memories.

Louis lifted his head to look at Harry, leaving his arms draped where they were. Harry looked back, looking so warm and so happy. His eyes shining green and his cheeks flushed red, he was so beautiful. Louis couldn't help himself. He stood on his toes, pulling himself closer and pressed a kiss... to Harry's nose. He wasn't _that_ drunk. But he wasn't done. A kiss to his forehead, his cheeks, the corners of his eyes, until Harry was giggling up a storm, and feeling the shake of his laughter was all that mattered. Feeling Harry pull him back in to kiss his ear before speaking was the whole world.

"Don't let me go, Lou."

It was so quiet, so simple, yet if he listened close, Louis could've sworn he heard fear in Harry's voice.

"Never."

By the time Liam and Zayn showed up, already trashed, Louis had drunkenly flopped, stomach first, on to Harry's lap and Niall had joined them on Harry's bed. But that didn't last long. Zayn turned up Harry's weird music and Liam alternated between forcing pints to forcing glasses water onto the boys and Niall got up to dance and Harry wouldn’t stop taking pictures and soon the five of them were stumbling around trying to get ready for a rowdy night out.

They found a house party, and it all went spinning downhill from there. Music was blasting and people were moving fast, empty cups littering the scene. Louis stayed close to Harry. Harry stayed close to Louis. Anytime anyone so much as looked at the other, they would get ridiculously possessive. Harry would hang onto Louis like a baby monkey and Louis would make Harry wrap his arms around him, not letting each other go. Louis would sneak glances at Harry’s mouth, wondering… But Harry’s eyes were always more interesting. And as always, neither of them complained.

Soon, Niall found a girl to make out with and Liam was by the speakers being comically dirty with his almost-dancing and Zayn had wandered outside to call Perrie and Louis and Harry were left to themselves in a crowded room of strangers.

Louis was very drunk. He was very drunk and very warm and very touchy, so he leaned up to Harry’s ear and whispered, “Hazza.”

“Mmmmmmm, Lou,” Harry slurred.

“Hold my hand.”

“Okay,” he smiled. Harry didn’t have to reach to link his fingers through Louis’s, they were already so close, sides pressed together and Louis’s chin still on Harry’s shoulder. Somewhere, somehow some rationality came through the layers of alcohol when Harry asked, “Why?”

Louis thought about it, and his hesitation was enough to gain Harry’s attention. Harry thought he looked embarrassed, shy, maybe even sad. “‘Cause I love you. I don’t want you leave me, ever.” Louis smiled to himself, impressed that he said what he did.

The bass shook the house, and Harry could feel it in his feet, he could feel the air around him move as people walked around him, he could feel Louis's side pressing into his. He could feel everything. He couldn't remember ever feeling this much, especially when the alcohol in his system threatened to push him on to the ground with every step he took. It was as if Louis was his lifeline. Being connected to him made him stand steady, made him feel so clearly. And through all Harry could feel, the only thing he cared about was the boy beside him.

Harry pressed a kiss to his forehead and whispered into his fringy hair, "I love you forever."

Niall found them no less than twenty minutes later. They had found a couch and Niall thought if they had the choice to become one person they would take it. Harry sat toward the end with Louis almost in his lap, legs definitely in his lap, their arms curled around each other and their heads and necks cuddled into one. Harry's curls fell onto Louis in the most graceful way. Niall thought they looked like toddlers, little kids who had a long day playing in the sun that came inside and crashed into each other for a nice, peaceful nap. But even though their eyes were closed, Niall knew they weren't sleeping: he could see Harry's thumb tracing circles on Louis's side, Louis tapping his foot to the music, just enjoying each other.

* * *

 

The first thing Louis did when he got home was call over Stan. The second thing he did when he got home was throw a party. All of his Doncaster friends were done with the term and they were all wound up with the Christmas spirit and they had to let out their party animals before the extended family began to arrive. Or at least that’s what Louis told himself.

The party was roaring by eleven, located at Stan’s house and paid for by Louis and DJ’d by a genius musician from Stan’s school. Everything was going just right. Louis was sufficiently drunk and people were laughing at his jokes and all of his childhood friends were being wonderful party-goers. His childhood friends were great. Stan’s school friends were hot. Everything was going just right.

It had been a little more than a week since the last time he got drunk. His drunk night with Harry. Harry. Who had spent that night tucked in Louis’s side, gangling arms wrapped around whichever part of Louis was closest. Louis had spent that night absorbing all the Harry he could, knowing it would be too long before they could hold each other again.

But he had absorbed too much, now that Louis was thinking about it with the pint Stan had just handed him. Because all week he had been adding words and thoughts and feelings to _soulmates_ and _love_ and _friends_. One of the defining traits of a Louis Tomlinson Crush was the inability to stop thinking about them. If a person was just friends he thought about them a lot, especially when he was reminded of them, but a crush was different. A crush was going through Louis mind 24/7, regardless of their relevance in the moment. And lately Harry was the only thing on his mind.

This was bad. No, not bad. Not bad... but not good. Louis was drunk.

Not now, Louis decided on. Feelings could wait until another time. Actions were what he needed. When was the last time he had kissed anyone? When was the last time he had gotten laid? Jesus. Actions. Now.

Louis looked around the room just as Stan’s DJ friend (his name was… G… or Jeb or something) hopped down from his table in front of the fireplace. Louis needed a distraction. Louis could see the DJ distantly checking him out as he walked through the crowd, presumably getting another drink. So Louis followed him to the kitchen and put on his flirt.

Three minutes later they were kissing. The only thing Louis could feel was bass through the floor beneath him.

* * *

 

Harry sat on a simple chair on the side of room, looking distractedly forward. The party around him was in full swing, Boxing Day clearly a decent excuse for his family friends to throw a party. A moderately lit, wood paneled room in the back of a house at the edge of the neighborhood was full of people, but not too crowded to overwhelm. It was probably just around midnight. The music was good and the beer was flowing. The people were familiar and the time felt right. Harry loved these parties; the perfect balance of pretty people and anonymous privacy, the not-too-loud music giving a background to the happy conversations.

Tonight, Harry was here for the privacy. His curls hung low to hide his face and his tight jeans and t-shirt were black to blend in as much as possible. He held his phone in his hand to appear busy, but his expression would have given him away.

Harry wasn't drinking to have fun, tonight. He was drinking a little, just enough to loosen his mind. He didn't need to get away, exactly, but in the past, new faces for a night helped him. Tonight, Harry wanted the peace, he needed the solution, but he couldn't figure out what the problem was. His brain had been short circuiting recently, giving him headaches, and sometimes even his chest would hurt.

He missed his friends. That was certain. Harry missed having someone right down the hall, no matter what he needed. Being back home and spending time with his mum and Gemma had been excellent, but these boys had built a new piece of Harry's heart, and having them gone was hard.

Harry missed Louis the most. _Obviously_ , he thought, grinning to himself. Obviously he missed Louis the most. Louis was... Louis was... Louis was everything.

 _Louis is everything_ , he thought. That is sure a lot for one person to be... And even _everything_ didn't very well capture all that Louis meant to Harry. Harry missed Louis the most because Louis was everything.

Harry missed Louis’s soul. His way of taking care of those around him so sneakily that they never realize—his way of taking care of Harry.

Harry missed him physically, too. He missed having someone to hold if he needed it, or someone to hold him. He missed his body. Louis had a great body—everyone knew that—but Harry missed Louis's arms hugging him, his stomach moving when he laughed, his lips curling when he tried not to smile at Harry's bad puns.

Harry wished Louis were here.

He imagined Louis walking in the door of the wood paneled room, smiling in relief and saying, "Jesus, Haz, there you are." He imagined Louis walking up to him, holding his shoulder and leaning down to his eye level before asking if he was having a good time. Harry would nod and smile his fondest smile, and Louis would return it.

Harry imagined Louis then sitting right on Harry's lap, because all the other chairs were full, and because Louis probably thought it would be funny. He wished he could wrap his arms around Louis's torso, feel his stomach clench as Harry pulled him close. He wished he could hold him, smell his warm scent and kiss his shoulder blades to make sure Louis knew he was loved. Harry thought about what would happen if Louis turned around. If Louis was so close and they were both warm from the alcohol and each other, if Louis leaned in to Harry's shoulder kisses until they—

 _Buzz_.

Harry's mind resurfaced. He realized where he was and what was happening around him, he realized where his mind had just gone, he recognized the shock of the immediate lack of that warm feeling, and he tried to shake off that train of thought long enough to check his phone.

**_H, I miss you!!!_ **

Louis was thinking about him. Harry smiled down at his phone, all previous thoughts of kissing briefly wiped away as he felt his lips curl up in a grin and the warmth return in a different way because _Louis was thinking about him_. Louis, so far away in Doncaster, probably watching telly with his mum or Lottie or Stan. Louis, who probably looked all soft in his pyjamas and a beanie. Louis, who hopefully had that cute look in his eyes, that look he gave Harry when Harry cared too much about otters, or when his bad puns were so bad they weren't even correct puns, or when he brushed his thumb over Louis's thighs while the studied. The look that reminded Harry of what he wanted to look like when he thought he was in love.

In love.

In _love_.

Oh god.

Harry made that look all the time. He knew it. He felt it. He felt his face relax into a smile while his eyes focused on the one thing that made the whole world go around. Every time Louis would talk about his sisters, or when he flawlessly entertained a room full of people, or when he was really quiet and focused as he made his tea...

What if Harry was in love with Louis?

Harry had to take a step back. Physically. Mentally. In every way. This was huge. Not too big to handle, but definitely bigger than he was. He sat up straight—he couldn't remember when he had put his head in his hands. He forced his shocked face to relax. He planted his feet back on the ground, set the chair back on to four legs, and tried to sit as stable as possible. The people in the wood paneled room were blissfully busy, and Harry tried to focus on the wall opposite him while he sorted this out.

What if Harry was in love with Louis?

 _Okay_ , Harry thought, processing. _Okay_ , he thought again, accepting. _Okay_ , embracing. In fact, he kinda liked it. Being in love sounded easy. Being in love with Louis sounded lovely. Being anything and everything with Louis sounded like the way a smile felt: instinctual and natural and beautiful.

What if Louis was in love with Harry? How did Louis feel? Did it matter? Harry was perfectly happy before he named his feelings… No. It did matter. The idea that Harry could feel all this, all this for one person, one magnificent wonderful amazing person, and Louis didn’t feel the same? Louis had to feel the same. _He has to feel the same. He just texted, he misses me, he has to—_ Oh.

He needed to text Louis back. Harry thought _I love you_ , he thought _so much_ , he thought _please love me back_.

He sent _Lou! I miss you more xxxxxxxxxx_

**_That is bullshit Styles I miss you very much more_ **

Harry smiled at the screen. _I can’t believe you Lou. I miss you more than anything. it’s almost too much ;)_

**_Just trust me, Styles_ **

_……… okay :) :) :) :) x_

* * *

 

“HAPPY NEW YEARS HAZZZZZZZZZZZZZZA,” Louis very literally screamed into the phone. He was drunk. Who cared?

“Excuse you, Lou, we’ve still got a minute thirty seconds.” But Louis could hear him smiling.

“Oh shut up, Styles. Tell me how intoxicated you are.”

“Well, _Tomlinson_ , I’m probably as intoxicated as you are,” Harry said slowly, stumbling a little on his words with a low laugh.

“Peeeerrrrrrrrfect.”

“How so?”

“I don’t knooow, Harry! I just don’t like being, like, uneven from you,” Louis said, knowing the words weren’t the most accurate way to explain how he was feeling, but he was dizzy and his brain was whirling and maybe Harry would think he was just distracted, but he knew it wouldn’t matter in twenty seconds.

Harry just smiled, a big grin that made his dimples show and his head bow down. He knew he probably looked like an idiot loner, standing near the porch doors instead of in the crowd of family friends, alone and on the phone with only… thirty seconds until the new year. “Oh my god, Louis! They’re counting! It’s soon!”

Louis laughed at him. Harry smiled. They counted down together.

They each hugged some people on their own ends and kissed their mothers, but never hung up, even as guests began to leave and the bars started to run dry.

Louis hadn’t left his mother’s couch. He talked to Harry about every person who had been there this evening, about how loudly Lottie had complained about being capped off after one glass, about how much he missed Harry. Louis could feel the alcohol starting to leave his system, hitting that perfect level to fall asleep at. Everything was still warm, but things wouldn’t spin if he walked around.

Harry wandered around the house while they talked, then made his way to his bed around one. Harry felt sober enough, but knew that if he tried to think about anything negative, the alcohol would shield it from his thoughts. Louis was still laughing at his ear and everything was amazing.

“Oh my god, Haz did I tell you about Greg? How he almost threw up in my mum’s sunflowers earlier?”

Harry laughed, “No? Which one is Greg?”

“He’s one of Stan’s uni friends. The poor thing narrowly avoided the late night wrath of my mum. It could’ve been tragic.”

“So he’s nice enough to wish him in Jay’s good graces?” Harry laughed along. He loved hearing Louis talk about his life, like the most trivial things were the most exciting. He wished he could meet his family, his friends, really get to piece together the stories. Louis was so wonderful.

“Oh, yes,” Louis chuckled freely. “He’s a wonderful person. Very charitable. A good kisser. Great taste in music. Definitely not worth the wrath of my mother.” Louis smiled at the thought of Greg begging for forgiveness over his mother’s ruined flowers. “I’m very glad he didn’t vom on that garden, though. Those flowers could win prizes.”

But Harry was suddenly very sober and very aware of the fact. If Greg was a friend of Stan’s from uni, Louis would’ve only just met him. Louis had been kissing other people. Recently. People who weren’t him. It felt like his insides were being shredded. His heart had sunk into his stomach and his brain had frozen on the image of Louis kissing someone else. The image that had been lingering in Harry’s thoughts (and in his bed) of Louis cuddling closer and closer to him was shattered. Any stray bubble of hope of memories from the term was popped. Louis didn’t feel the same. And Louis was right: Harry hated feeling uneven to him.

All Louis heard was silent static. “Hey Haz?” Pause. “You still awake over there?”

Louis’s voice was so careful and quiet. Harry knew every emotion and expression through his voice. It hurt to hear. “Mm, yeah,” he mumbled, not really ready to be fully present.

“Oh good.” Relief. “Thought I had lost you.” Sadness. “Anyway. You should come visit, see my mum’s garden. You would love it.” Louis was still smiling. He imagined Harry praising even the dirt in the flower bed and smiled even more. “She would love it.”

Harry couldn’t answer. He could hear Louis’s smile in his voice. He knew Louis couldn’t imagine why Harry felt like he was dying. And Harry wanted to just give up then and there. But he knew losing Lou would be impossibly worse than whatever he felt right then.

“Hey, Louis, I have to go to sleep.”

Louis frowned at the sudden change, but looked at the clock and realized, “Oh yeah, it’s two AM, I should sleep too!” Louis laughed a little still. Harry’s heart broke. “Umm, well, goodnight Haz. I’ll see you so so soon! Happy new year! I love you!”

“Mm, g’night, Lou.”

“Goodnight.” Louis smiled and hung up. He tried not to let the two hour call time on the screen get to his head as he dragged himself upstairs.

He most definitely did not hear Harry whisper “I love you” into the dark after the phone disconnected.

* * *

 

Classes resumed a few days after New Year’s. Things were tense, classes were harder, rooms were messier. Niall knew something was off with Harry. Harry stayed up late on his phone and when he woke up his sheets were always on the floor. Whenever he was alone he looked more tired than usual, but when he was with Louis he looked fine. He poured himself into his work. Not that he was a bad student before, but there was always room for improvement, right?

Niall approached him after a week of almost no conversation. He found Harry in the back of the library. He looked like he was concentrating, but Niall knew from the volume of his headphones that no work was being done.

“Hey mate.”

Harry looked up, surprised, and quickly yanked his headphones out of his ears. “Hey, yeah, umm, sorry. Feel free,” he said, gesturing to the seat next to him.

Niall eyed him as he sat, and Harry felt the glare but didn’t address it. Didn’t want to address it. But Niall didn’t care.

“You okay, bro? You’ve been a little distant since we got back.”

Harry really didn’t want to address it. “Yeah man, I’m fine. Just lots of work to do. You know.”

“Yeeaah…” Niall paused, hesitant. “Did something happen over the holidays? You seemed great when we talked at Christmas…”

Harry hadn’t even considered that other people could see through him. And if Niall knew something was different, Louis definitely did. Louis. Louis who had been acting the same, with just as many touches and whispers and cuddles as usual. Louis who always looked for Harry’s approval when he covered Harry’s hand with his own, who would look Harry in the eye endlessly, trying to read him (except for those heart wrenching moments when Harry swore Louis’s eyes would drop to his lips).

The biggest problem was that Harry couldn’t be mad at him for kissing Greg. They weren’t together by any means. Harry didn’t have a claim over Louis, and Louis probably wasn’t even interested. Harry had tried to keep things between them the same as they had been, but it was a lot of effort, both to maintain the illusion of and Harry wasn’t even sure if Louis noticed either way. Or cared.

But it always felt so mutual when they were together. When they would cuddle or talk or just sit next to each other, Harry had always assumed Louis needed him to be there just as much as Harry did. Harry knew that to an extent that was true, but obviously Harry’s needs were just a little deeper—a fact he had done his best to block all week.

“Err. Well. Nothing really happened to me, no.”

Niall tried and failed to hold Harry’s gaze. “Harry.” Harry just looked at the desk. “Harry did something happen with Lou?”

So Niall knew. Everything was collapsing and Harry finally let it out. He sighed and slumped in his chair, resting his elbows on the table and rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. He could feel all the emotions he’d been holding in all week start to bubble up inside him until a quiet sob escaped his lips.

Niall took it as confirmation. He scooted his chair closer and draped an arm around Harry’s shoulders as Harry silently cried. After a few minutes he said, “You should talk to him. I think he’s buggin’ too.”

~~~~~

“What’s up, Harry,” Louis said bluntly as he arrived at Harry's doorway in the middle of the afternoon, unannounced. Louis wasn't mad, necessarily, but he wasn't exactly disappointed either. He was just cross. And he didn't even know with whom. He just looked down at Harry sitting on the floor of his room with a book propped against his camera, which was connected to the computer.

"Umm. Hi?" Louis could tell he was confused, surprised, unsure. He mostly just looked like he needed a nap.

"Niall said we should talk. And I agree. So let’s talk." He was mad at Harry for not telling him about whatever was bothering him. He was mad at Niall for forcing him to be honest with himself. He was mad at himself for not being honest earlier. He didn't even know what this was about, for Christ’s sake. He just wanted it to stop.

"Umm. Okay?" Harry slowly ( _reluctantly_ , Louis thought) marked his spot in the book, looked up at Louis with a questioning glance, folded his computer shut, put it away, and looked up again. "Uhh, would you like to sit?"

This was _awkward_ , Louis realized. Since when were things between them awkward? Louis knew Harry didn't feel the same way about him as he felt for Harry, but... but that was no excuse for Louis to let this be awkward. So he did his best.

Louis unfroze himself from the doorway (where he had been watching the way Harry's giant baby body moved to clear the space) and sat down right in front of Harry and crossed his legs so their knees were touching.

Louis took a deep breath and went all in. "Why are you upset? And don't deny it, I have good resources." Louis knew that Harry would assume Niall was the resource, and didn’t correct him. Louis had noticed a change, too. Harry’s texts were just a little shorter, his conversations briefer. Louis hated it.

Harry sighed and looked down at their laps. "Well, like," Harry hesitated but knew he had to power through this because he hated it too. "How important is Greg? Because like I have no idea who he is but he, like, clearly played a role in your holiday, like..."

Louis's heart beat a little faster. "Why do you ask?" _Please be jealous please be jealous please._

Harry knew he couldn't avoid this, but he also couldn't tell the truth. "I, uh. I guess I'm upset that you met this guy and kissed him and he almost puked on your mum’s flowers, but like you never told me about him? I'm your best friend, right?" He couldn't help but ask, even rhetorically. "So why didn't I hear about it?" So he twisted the truth. Sue him.

Louis's heart sank and he joined Harry in staring at their laps instead of his sad face. So he wasn't jealous exactly. But he was upset about the kiss and Louis had been tearing himself apart over it, and knowing that Harry cared about it made it worse. "Oh, babe," Louis breathed. "First off, yes you are my best friend, you dick." Anything to get Harry smiling again. "Second, Greg is really just, like, Stan's friend. And that's it. When we kissed, we were really drunk and, to be quite honest I kinda wanted to forget about it as soon as I woke up the next day.” He looked up at the curly hair in front of him. “So I did, more or less." Harry's eyes were still the same sad, but his expression had softened. "Sorry I didn't tell you," he mumbled to the floor.

At that, Harry looked up to the top of Louis head and he kissed him there. Louis smiled to himself and grabbed Harry’s giant hands. They leaned against each other until Niall came back.

* * *

 

The weekend before Harry’s birthday the five of them threw a party. Zayn took a night off from living in Perrie’s room, Liam brought over the rum he never drank, and they had a proper gathering on their hands. Harry’s week had been crazy, sleep had been sacrificed for the library, and this night with his friends was just what he needed.

After a few rounds and a few songs, even some outsiders came by. Cher brought some of her friends who were in Harry’s digital media class. He watched Louis admire Aiden and Zayn exchanging the tattoos they had gotten over the holidays. Even some of Liam’s rugby friends stopped to visit. Harry and Niall’s room was packed. It was Harry’s favorite kind of night; all of his closest friends drinking, singing, and smiling in a really small, warm room.

Since their talk, Harry had been feeling so much better about Louis. He still knew Louis didn’t feel the same, but at least he wasn’t interested in kissing other people at the moment. In this moment, all Louis seemed to care about was standing next to Harry, touching Harry, being with Harry. And even though Harry knew that didn’t include kissing, he basked in the affection.

“You’re growing up so fast, babe,” Louis cooed next to him, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck as he looked around the room.

“Heyyyyy, I’m not that much younger than you,” Harry defended, but who was he kidding. He loved everything about Louis, including the age difference and the teasing. And Louis probably knew that.

“Just a little baby,” Louis laughed, turning in Harry’s arms to face him. But his laugh died as he looked at Harry. His expression softened and his eyes crinkled just enough. “What would I do without you?”

It wasn’t a question, but it was clearly something Louis struggled with. And Harry thought about it all the time, and it was nice to know that Louis did too. Even footing, and all that. But as Harry opened his mouth to respond, a big, drunk yawn escaped him. And Louis’s face got even more fond.

“You need to go to bed?” he asked Harry. It was ridiculous how much Harry loved him.

Harry laughed and looked around. “I would if I could,” he said, gazing longingly at his bed, which was currently being used as a couch for four people.

“C’mon, my room is quiet.” Louis pulled at Harry’s arm and began walking toward the door.

“Lou, I couldn’t, I know you need your sleep too.” But Harry wasn’t really protesting.

“H, it’s okay. I want you to.”

Niall watched them as they wandered through the crowd, careful not to bump any drinks. Harry grabbed his camera and his keys from the desk, looked up at Niall, nodded goodbye, and they left. Harry ignored the knowing, thoughtful look in Niall’s eyes as they stumbled down the hallway.

They leaned on each other as they walked, Louis detached himself from Harry’s side to fumble with the locked door, and they quietly got ready for bed. They stripped down to their pants, Harry took a picture of his clothes on the floor, and turned around to see Louis watching him.

Harry was feeling particularly touchy, and the alcohol and sudden lack of clothing wasn’t helping. He got up into Louis’s space and wrapped his arms around his side and pulled Louis closer until Louis just… turned into his body and hugged him back. They fit so well. Sometimes it still shocked Harry, but he never once questioned it. It was so natural to hold him, to run his hands softly down Louis’s warm, bare back, to whisper, “I love you, Lou” into his hair as he started to lose his balance. Louis laughed into his neck as Harry caught himself on the edge of Louis’s bed. Harry wanted to pull back and watch Louis face, try to read his drunk, open eyes in the low light. He wanted to read _kiss me_ painted across his face. He wanted Louis to want to press his hips against his own, run his fingers through his hair, kiss his neck—

But Harry knew it wouldn’t happen, and he didn’t want to create more heartache for himself.

“Get in first,” Louis whispered, knowing from many nights of experience that Harry liked being next to the wall.

Harry stumbled into Louis’s bed in only his pants, smiled his best dimpled smile as Louis tried to tuck him in, and closed his eyes as he waited for the heat of Louis next to him.

Louis was so in love. And he knew it. As he drunkenly fumbled around his room, making sure he still had his phone and his key and his boy, his insides twisted and turned with affection. He was so constantly glad he had Harry in his life to care about him and to laugh with and to talk to. Sometimes it was horrible not knowing how Harry felt, but right now he was so content.

Louis looked at his boy, remembering all the times Harry would curl up on the edge of Louis’s bed when he was really drunk and be snoring in three minutes. His curls and his soft face made him look like the most endearing little kitten, but the roar of his breathing begged to differ. And tonight was just the same. He could see Harry’s slow breathing, knew he was sleeping, or very close to, and crawled under the blankets next to him.

The moment Louis was settled Harry’s arms were around him, pulling him close, their legs intertwining. Louis felt Harry take a deep breath into his hair, and he relaxed even more into his chest.

The last thing Harry remembered was the feeling of Louis’s lips on his shoulder, right before he drifted off.

* * *

 

Louis felt strange on Valentine’s Day. He knew he didn’t have a… significant other, but growing up Valentine’s Day had always been about celebrating all kinds of love. So he acted on that.

He bought cards for Zayn and Liam and gave Niall and Harry a box of chocolates. And made a playlist for Harry. And covered Harry’s side of the room with sticky notes about how important he was. Louis knew the others wouldn’t really mind his favoritism. Whatever. It was a nice feeling, knowing that Harry felt loved. Because Harry deserved that, even if Louis didn’t share the extent of his love.

Mostly Louis just wanted to kiss every part of Harry’s face and make sure he knew he was the most beautiful boy to ever walk this earth. He wanted to kiss him; kiss away the hurt that he saw in Harry’s fleeting glances on rainy days. He tried not to think about how badly he wanted to kiss the rest of his skin, but he couldn’t stop it most days.

It appeared Harry wanted to share his love too, because later that night he stopped by Louis’s room and surprised him with tickets to see The Script in a few weeks. (Harry’s thought process was mostly just _I’m falling to pieces_ on repeat, and he thought he could make a joke out of it while also enjoying the company.) It was so wonderful; Harry snapped a picture of Louis’s surprise and Louis nearly kissed him then and there.

But he didn’t.

But he held him as tight as he could to make up for it. And Harry hugged him back.

* * *

 

It took them longer to pick the movie than it did to get all five of them situated in the small space. They all sat against the wall on Niall’s bed and propped Harry’s computer on Harry’s desk chair and somehow connected Niall’s speakers to the computer, creating a mini theater in their building. Obviously Liam wanted to watch the latest Batman, but Louis (and therefore Harry) wanted to watch Spiderman, saying, “I still haven’t seen it enough times to make up for Spiderman 3.” He had a point.

A few minutes into the movie Louis leaned over to Harry and whispered as they watched, “I wish I could be Spiderman. I’d love it so much.”

“You’d be good at it too, Lou.” Louis smiled to himself.

They whispered for a few more minutes, making quiet commentary on the movie or about how great it would be to meet the love of your life on a movie set.

“Hey, lads, did you see when Andrew Garfield snowed up on Emma Stone’s SNL?” Niall said loudly a few minutes later.

Zayn chuckled from the other side of the bed, but Harry spoke first. “Niall, be quiet we’re watching a movie”

“Oh, come on! It was funny! I forget that he’s British all th’ time.”

“It was funny, Niall, but please don’t talk while the movie is on.”

Niall rolled his eyes. “You and Lou were just talking.”

Harry sighed and focused his eyes on the movie. “Louis had interesting things to talk about, Niall,” he reasoned. It wasn’t a very good reason, but he tried.

“Hey now. Just because Lou’s your best friend in th’ world doesn’t mean you can be so biased.”

Zayn and Liam sniggered and Louis tucked his head into Harry’s shoulder, trying to hide his blush in the dark. Harry just reached over Louis’s body and put his giant hand around Niall’s head and forced him to look back at the screen. “Movie.”

Niall decided not to comment on Harry’s decision to leave his arm draped over Louis’s shoulders. He wasn’t allowed to talk, after all.

* * *

 

Louis was having a bad day.

Louis had a lot of bad days. Though if he was going to be honest with himself, most of his days were pretty good, he just never saw the good things until he looked back on them. Today was probably one of those days, but right now it was ten past noon and the line for lunch was too much to deal with and he still had more classes and his toes were cold. March was a brutal month.

When he sat down with his food, Louis pushed it around his plate between bites, waiting for something nice to happen. Maybe his dry chicken would wrap itself in Parma ham. That would make it taste better.

Harry and Niall showed up a few minutes later, both of them setting their bags down and Niall sitting next to Louis.

“Sorry, Lou, gotta rush,” Harry said, and he dashed off to get in line. Louis watched him go.

“He has to turn in some prints before one,” Niall explained, pulling out his computer.

“Ah,” was all Louis could muster. Not that Harry being too busy for lunch really made his day worse. They were busy people, and they both knew that, and it wasn’t a surprise or an insult if they were too busy or stressed to hang out. But if Louis was being honest, having Harry at lunch would have been the nice thing he needed. So he just breathed on to his plate and pulled out his phone as he continued to hope for better food.

Harry came back for his bag with a sandwich in hand, already taking a bite. “Sorry again, babe,” he rushed out. As Louis began to respond, Harry bent down and brushed Louis’s fringe off his forehead, kissed him there, and whispered “have a good day” as he walked away.

Louis must’ve looked so pathetic because Niall reached over and pat his shoulder.

“Fuck.” Louis’s head slammed down onto the table, his phone slipping out of his grip as he closed his eyes. “I’m so in love with him, Ni.”

Niall looked over, sighing at his friend's slumped figure. He saw it, and he knew. Every day. Every day he saw the way Lou’s eyes would linger a little too long. He watched Harry try to fix his hair more and more when Louis walked up. He saw when Harry would bring him coffee and kiss him on top of his head and Louis’s eyes would flutter shut for the smallest second. He saw when they would text from across the crowded table, having their own conversation amidst the crazy of the group, unable to rein in their secrets and their constant, desperate need for each other.

“I know, Lou," Niall sighed. "I know."

Niall didn’t know about some things, though. Niall didn’t see the secret pictures of each other they had taken at their closest moments. Niall didn’t know about the snapchats Harry would save to remind him of what he was feeling when he sent them. Niall didn’t know how Louis would organize his schedule around the possibility of seeing Harry walk to class. Not even Louis or Harry knew these things. Harry doesn’t remember why he took those pictures of Louis’s glasses sliding down his nose. Louis would always think of other reasons to wake up early and get to the coffee stop right by Harry’s building. They couldn’t even admit the smallest things to themselves, as if even brushing the thought would hurt so much they would shatter.

It was hurting anyway.

* * *

 

It hurt a lot, if Louis was being honest. He’d been being as honest as he could since the Greg incident. At least with himself. And with Zayn, when he needed to let it out. And he needed to let it out.

The night before The Script concert Louis went over to have a nice chat. Because lately there wasn’t a moment when Harry wasn’t on his mind. And as much as he loved Harry, the sinking feeling that came with the curls was taking its toll on Louis’s morale.

He told as much to Zayn and all Zayn said in reply was, “So what are you gonna do about it, mate?” That wasn’t helpful.

The two of them were on Zayn’s bed, lying on their stomachs next to each other. Zayn’s room was on the same floor as the rest of them, but they never really hung out there because of his roommate. Louis walked by almost every day, but most days he’d rather be in his own space, so that’s what happened.

Louis kicked him. From a horrible angle, but he still managed it. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out, idiot.”

Zayn thought about it. Louis figured he had been thinking about it a lot anyway. But Zayn’s response was calculated. “So… Harry is unconsciously breaking your heart. Right now you’re ignoring your feelings and it’s not working out. And I know you’re not gonna up and force Harry to leave your life.” Zayn paused for confirmation. Louis shook his head and tried to kick him again. “So your only option here is to change your relationship.”

Louis sighed. Everything in the room was still, but he could hear music from next door, the building doors creaking open in the hallway, the birds outside chirping and yearning for spring. Louis wanted spring too. He wanted the snow to melt and life to begin and things to change. But he only wanted things to change for the better.

“It could go so badly,” Louis whispered. He felt weak.

“You have to tell him, mate.”

Louis aimed one last kick.

~~~~~

It was Thursday and Harry only had one more thing to do before the weekend and before the concert and before a whole night with only Louis. As he walked back to his room, he heard voices from Zayn’s room. He wasn’t going to stop and listen, but who was even hanging out in Zayn’s room? He slowed as he approached the open door, trying to focus on being quiet.

“It could go so badly.” That was Louis. That was Louis sounding very scared and very sad. _Keep walking. Pass the door. You don’t need to hear this._

“You have to tell him, mate.” What was Zayn saying? Who was that about? Why was Louis so scared? Did Louis need to tell him something? (Was he being narcissistic thinking this was about him?)

Oh my god. _Oh my god._ What if Louis was gonna… like… friend break-up with Harry? No. That was dumb. Both of them were on the same page about how much they needed each other. Harry would never leave Louis. Louis wouldn’t leave him either. It was mutual.

But then… why was Louis so scared of telling him something? Could he…?

“Hey bro, what’s up?” Niall’s voice snapped Harry out of his thoughts when he entered their room.

“Hmm?” Harry tried to get back the real world. Louis needed to tell him something. Real world. “Erm, yeah. Day was good. You?”

Niall gave him the look from his desk chair. “Day was fine. What just happened.” Not a question. A demand. Harry knew the difference.

“Uhh,” Harry put his bag and camera down and tried to speak. “Louis, umm, has something to tell me?”

Niall’s eyes widened. “Does he now? Excellent.”

“Niall.”

“Mmm, nothing, m’dear.” Niall reached over from his seat and gave Harry’s curls a pat. “Nothing. I just think you two do a lot of… dancing, and maybe it’s time to rest.” Niall’s grin was too much to decode at the moment. Harry’s mind was busy elsewhere.

* * *

 

The concert was _buzzing_. Everything was loud and happy and Harry and Louis were together so even if it was a bad show, it would’ve been okay. But it wasn’t.

They got to the venue, pushed their way up as close as they could, and waited. Harry took pictures of the stage and of Louis and of the two of them and of the people around them and more of Louis. The openers were great, but only Harry knew most of their songs. But it was okay, because watching Harry was half the fun of the whole night. Louis got them each a pint, and they danced when there was music and pressed themselves against each other when there wasn’t.

Harry was a terrible dancer. He had a good sense of rhythm, Louis knew that, but he had so little control over his strange body that his flails were off tempo and Louis forced himself into his space to try and guide him.

“Am I not doing this right?” Harry asked with his dimples out, mostly to spite Louis.

“No. Just… just let me lead, okay?” Louis took his hands and looked Harry in the eyes. The atmosphere was light and easy, and so was being with Harry. The only thing holding Louis back was the knowledge of what he wanted to say tonight. But the band hadn’t started yet and there was plenty of time for worrying later.

They awkwardly hopped to the music the venue was playing. Louis took Harry’s hand and pulled him in, stepped apart, and made for Harry to spin. Harry just stood there looking surprised, still bouncing to the beat.

“Spin, you fool!” Louis laughed above the noise.

Harry regained his footing and spun around beneath Louis’s hand. It was the most beautiful, dorkiest thing Louis had ever seen. And Harry basked in the attention. Louis pulled him in again, and Harry spun into Louis’s arms, nearly hitting him in the face, but Louis was prepared and Harry was careful. They grinned.

When the lights began to dim, Harry still had his back against Louis’s chest. When the music started, Harry turned his head to see Louis, their eyes shining at each other filled with excitement and adrenaline and warmth. But Harry didn’t turn back around. Louis loosened his grip on Harry’s waist and walked around to his side. If they both faced the stage, they’d stand next to each other. But they faced each other, Louis’s hands on Harry’s hips and Harry’s finding a place on either side of Louis.

Louis thought, _I should tell him. This is it. Right now I should tell him._ And he opened his mouth as the singer started, but Harry was already moving. Harry’s hands moved up to cup Louis’s face and he leaned in staring at Louis’s open mouth and Louis thought _Wait, this is better_ , and leaned in to meet him halfway and _yes_.

It was perfect. Any shock of the moment disappeared for both of them as soon as their lips touched, warm and ready with so much want. They kissed like they had been together for years. Like every kiss was new but nothing was unfamiliar or strange. Harry’s lips were warm and sure and so, so eager, and he moved a hand down to Louis’s back as they moved. Louis ran his fingers through Harry’s curls and pressed his body into Harry’s and it was better than any dream. They kissed as the music and the crowd swayed gently around them.

They pulled back as the chorus began and they gazed at the hearts and stars in each of their eyes.

_Oh we’ll remember this night when we’re old and grey_

_We’re arm in arm as we sing away,_

_in the future these will be the good ol’ days._

~~~~~

“So if it wasn’t clear, I love you a lot,” Louis said matter-of-factly. They were both riding the post-concert high and the post-make-out high and the train was starting to thin out and they were together, so everything was good. They finally grabbed two seats 20 minutes after they boarded, and immediately wound their fingers and legs together. Every now and then one of them would find themselves drenched in affection and would promptly kiss the other. And if that affection was the theme of the trip, who were they to care?

“What? Really? I thought you just liked me for my body,” Harry grinned, leaning back a little to give the people a better view.

Louis didn’t need that. His eyes raked down Harry’s torso as he placed a hand on his chest. “Mmm, yes, well. I think we could talk more about that later.” Harry absolutely blushed but he didn’t back down. He leaned forward and waited in Louis space for Louis to meet him halfway, but they were both such teases that the kiss almost never happened. But they were also so desperate for it that they could barely stop once it started.

It wasn’t like they were desperate for the physical things—well, they were, but there was so much more that they needed in the moment. Mostly they needed to let out all of the love they’d been holding back. They recapped the concert between touches and ‘I love you’s and private smiles and dimples and eye crinkles. They needed to make up for lost time, kissing gently every spare second. And they kissed foreheads and cheeks and chins and noses, too, because the affection was for every part of the other person.

“You really love me?” Harry asked as he rubbed his thumbs below Louis’s ear.

“I really love you, Harry,” Louis said softly. “I… I might even be _in_ love with you.” At that, Louis looked down at where his legs were draped over Harry’s lap. But it didn’t last long because Harry was pulling him closer and wrapping his arms around him. Harry leaned his forehead against Louis’s.

He whispered, “I might be in love with you too.”

Louis shouldn’t have been surprised, and he supposed he wasn’t, but knowing that Harry actually felt the same, even beyond wanting to kiss Louis, well. That was amazing. “You’re in love with me.” Louis pulled back to watch his boy.

“Mm hmm.”

“You’re in love with me! Holy shit!”

Harry looked endearingly confused. Happily dazed. Drunk with love. “What makes you say that?”

“How long have you known?”

Harry thought about it. “Well, all of this term, I suppose.”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. We could have done this so much sooner.”

“What?!” Harry laughed, exasperated. “I… We could’ve done so much. We could be running the world by now, Lou.”

“What a shame,” Louis smiled. “Though I think we can still rule the world. In fact, I’d quite like to.”

But Harry thought about it. So much of what had happened this year revolved around Louis, and if things had changed earlier it would be so different. “You know… I’m glad we took our time figuring it out. Really gives it more weight… Like, it makes it more special.”

Louis looked at Harry, still amazed by how much he cared.

The rest of the train ride went by quickly. When they got back to their building, they snuck carefully through the halls to Harry’s room. They climbed into Harry’s bed as quietly as they could: Niall would not be happy being woken up so late. Little did they know that the sound of their goodnight kisses and quite whispers were what Niall had been waiting for all night.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> WOW! Thank you for reading, friends. It’s been about two years since I’ve written anything, and this is my first 1D anything and first fic over 4k words, so… It’s been fun. 
> 
> My fic sideblog is [thwrites](http://thwrites.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, please come say hello :)  
> Some of my inspiration for this fic is [tagged with ToT](http://tourharry.tumblr.com/tagged/tot/)!! The song at the end is [Good Ol' Days](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cKPu0VmUtrw&feature=kp) (by The Script, in case that wasn't clear). 
> 
> Thanks again!!!!!! Happy birthday, Erin :) I love you.


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